


Keep on keeping On

by nakamaRose



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Jack Has Feelings, M/M, Working things out, touch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-03-31 14:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakamaRose/pseuds/nakamaRose
Summary: Mark was smiling and making a few bad jokes as he rose from his spot on the couch, "Duty calls". He turned that brilliant smile in Jack's direction and the world tilted once more.





	1. Lookin' like you Fell in love Tonight

It wasn't so much that he was avoiding the call, it was more like, he had a list of things he needed to get done before tour and he had procrastinated up until the last point. He thought he had a larger stockpile of videos to choose from, or at least something worthy of making content on, but of course he was mistaken.

Mark ran a hand through his hair, bangs falling back in front of his face but not quite reaching his eyes. He was thinking of getting it cut again before heading out, but the sheer amount of laziness and other priorities he had kept him from scheduling an appointment. Maybe he should just see how long he could grow it out before it annoyed the hell out of him.

**Bob:** _Have you talked to him already? Wade and I are getting impatient._

He glared at his computer as the familiar ping from Skype filled the quiet room. He had originally intended to film a little bit of Fortnite with them both, just a little something so he could get into the full swing of filming. Upon seeing the game Mark wanted them to play together, Wade had instantly asked about Jack. For a few shocking moments, Mark had only stared dumbly at the words on his screen, thoughts of the yelling Irishman hadn't crossed his mind in months, their communication with one another had been non-existent.

**Wade:** _Yeah! Kiss and make up already!_

**Bob:** _Wade…ugh, just ignore him._

Wade meant well, Mark knew, but the comment still made him feel uncomfortable. Both he and Jack had taken time away from one another, deciding it was best to branch off and pursue their own interests. To take time away from making obscene jokes and to dodge the ever-present watch of the shippers. Mark thumbed through his list of contacts, tapping on Jack's name, the messaging icon opening up. A blank screen greeted him, normally a pervious conversation would have popped up but Mark had long since deleted anything he had last talked about with the man.

_Hey, it's been a while…_ no, no, no.

_Sup dude! Got the guys and we're playing this game and we're wondering, if you're free…_ still not right.

_Playing Fortnite with Wade and Bob. Ya game?_ Better than nothing. Mark quickly hit the send button and tossed his phone aside. He refused to acknowledge the way his hands shook from anticipation at what Jack might have to say instead, he focused on setting up his equipment, regardless if Jack responded or not, he _needed_ to start filming.

 

"Mark _wishes_ he could have been bush buddies with us Wade".

"Ha! He wouldn't have been able to handle it!".

"Remind me again why I invited you two again?" Mark's deadpan voice cut through the laughter erupting from Bob and Wade. The game had gone well enough, plenty of laughs to be had and a decent amount of footage that Mark deemed suitable for making a video.

"Because we don't leave you hanging!" Wade wheezed, taking in a few breaths as he came down from his laughing fit.

"Really Wade?" Bob's exasperated voice got a chuckle out of Mark, even though he was scrunching his face in discomfort at the comment. Jack hadn't replied back during the duration of filming, not that it upset Mark in any way, he figured the Irishman was just busy and due to being in different time zones, it was understandable. He just wasn't comfortable with what Wade was insinuating.

"Did you guys get everything you needed?" Mark decided to guide the conversation away from Jack, the man would contact him in his own time.

"Yeah, I'm all set on my end. Bob?"

"Yup! Good to go buddies!"

"Good, good, I'll hit you guys up if anything else comes up".

The trio said their goodbyes and Mark went on searching for more material to film. Now that he had finally stopped procrastinating and gotten down to work, he was eager to continue. He was just settling on playing an Indie horror game that managed to catch his attention when his phone chimed at him. He didn't like the strange way it made his heart feel, as if he were a young child once again and was desperately trying to sneak cookies before dinner.

He grabbed his phone, the screen flickering to life, the message staring back at him.

**Jack:** _Hey! Sorry, was making food._

**Mark:** _I'm glad **the** Jacksepticeye made time for me **and** managed to make dinner, isn't it like, really late?_ Mark chuckled, the weird feeling that had been squeezing his heart faded instantly, the comeback finding its way onto the screen easily enough.

Jack: You're not my mom!

They slipped back into the old routine of teasing one another, Mark casually leaning back in his gaming chair, thoughts of getting more work done put on hold as they pestered one another in a friendly enough manner.

**Mark:** _Still planning on seeing us in London?_

**Jack:** _Yeah, yeah, I still have that day open._

This was good right? Jack still having the interest in going out to see him meant their friendship was in the green, moving towards something agreeable again. Mark knew Jack would have said something otherwise if he wasn't able to attend, and Mark pretended that he wouldn't have been somewhat disappointed at the notion.

**Mark:** _Good, because it's going to be fantastic!_

-.-

He probably should have known better than to stay up late recording, but it was just something he was so accustomed to doing that he no longer thought twice about it. Jack sprinted through the train station, narrowly dodging an elderly couple. He'd slept through his alarm, twice, and had only a handful of minutes to spare as he raced to catch his train.

Luck seemed to be on his side today as his train pulled away from the station the moment he sat down.

Jack settled himself onto the train, fishing out his headphones and popping them into his ears, his fingers absently twisting the cord as he looked out at the scenery flashing past his window. London was only a short train ride away from his home, as he'd come to realize one day while out vlogging, so it seemed obvious that he'd go to watch Mark perform when the American had listed off London as one of the tour stops. Jack's eyes followed the bodies of birds as they flew high in the sky, his mind wandering briefly as he thought of what it would be like to fly up there with them.

A particularly loud drum beat stole his attention, his hands beating out the rhythm on his legs on instinct. Once it passed, his hands went back to fiddling with the cord, he'd twisted it so much that it no longer lay out flat. Jack stared down at the cord, his leg bouncing up and down with pent up energy and nerves. Right now, he felt like he was a tangled mess, just like his headphones. Constantly twisting back and forth, switching from feeling fine to being a bundle of nerves and uncertainty.

He _was_ excited to be reunited with his American friends, really, he was. It'd been ages since he'd seen Wade, Bob, Ethan and Tyler, and he was excited to get to see them actually perform on stage. He was extremely proud of how well the show was doing and knew the boys must have felt the same way. His thoughts drifted to Mark, mulling over the weird summersaults his stomach decided to do at just the mere mention of the man's name. It wasn't that he was nervous about seeing Mark in person again, he had talked to him just a few weeks ago easily enough, the weird tension that had built up between them vanishing in a few short sentences.

That was a good sign, surely Jack thought as he watched a young girl pass by his seat with a chocolate chip cookie in hand, her father right behind her. Jack caught the eye of the father, a tall man with a tired face but eyes that shown brightly down at his daughter. When he noticed Jack, he smiled and tipped his head in greeting before they took their seats across from him. The Irishman returned the favor, making a goofy face at the young girl who smiled back, her face covered in chocolate and crumbs. They seemed happy, and it made a small smile turn up the corners of his mouth as he looked away.

Maybe he and Mark could get along as well as the father and daughter seemed to be.

If he and Mark could talk with one another via phone, then what was there really to worry about? The song Jack had been listening to faded into an opening guitar rift and he turned to look at the daughter and father sitting next to him. Families would often fight; this daughter and father could have been having a hard time and the cookie could have been a peace offering of sorts. A way to break the ice and move forwards.

Or he could just be projecting his own problems onto a family that he didn't really know. He was genuinely worried about being face to face with Mark again though.

Jack was worried about the tentative peace fracturing between them, and his anger getting the best of him again, leading them down another dark path where neither wanted to broach the topic so it was left to fester on its own. Jack sighed, worrying the inside of his lip. It was a good thing he was already sitting on a moving train because Jack was sure that if weren't, he would've been running back home.

-.-

Upon arriving, the Irishman was bombarded by an enthusiastic Ethan who had nearly knocked him backwards. Tyler, Bob, and Wade greeted Jack with just as much enthusiasm, painful high fives going all the way around and back breaking hugs a plenty. They all led Jack into the auditorium, excited voices reverberating and making it seem like the gang of five was a group of five hundred.

"Hey guys, give it a sec will ya?"

Mark's voice boomed through the speakers and Jack flinched at the screeching pitch the speakers made, the others voicing their own annoyance. They wordless moved closer to the steps leading down to the stage and slowly started whispering amongst themselves.

It was the first time Jack was seeing Mark in the flesh. He looked good, his hair having grown out a little bit more and falling just shy of covering his right eye. His beard was growing in a bit thicker now as well, making him look more mature than boyish. Jack shifted from one foot to the other, the odd summersaulting sensation coming back the longer he stared down at the American. Mark was wearing that gray cardigan of his again, something that Jack felt was becoming a part of the older man's attire the way someone would wear a sweater over and over again without washing it. Something that was comforting and familiar in strange new places. Jack watched as a few stage hands fiddled with the equipment, one going to Mark with an IPad, presumably with a never-ending checklist.

He seemed to take it all in easily enough, laughing and smiling as he adjusted the microphone taped to the side of his face. Mark tapped it once, twice, three times before his voice sounded through the room again and he nodded in satisfaction at the lack of feedback.

"All right guys, lets run through this really quick!" Mark waved his arms over at them, turning around to grab his guitar, "Jack, you can't see this yet".

Jack pouted, "Ah come on Mark, - "

"Nope! No buts, wouldn't want to ruin the show for ya!" Mark's grin was wide and Jack could only shake his head, laughing quietly to himself.

"Our dressing room is at the far end of the hallway down the stairs," Ethan's voice bounced as he took the stairs two at a time.

"Yeah," Mark's voice sounded through the room again, the sound of his guitar joining the excited voices that began to bounce off the walls and blend together. "It's a windy hallway, so don't get lost!"

-.-

He wouldn't admit it, but since Mark wasn't around he'd allow it.

Jack was lost.

Jack walked around aimlessly, poking his head into the various dressing rooms. Some of them were incredibly small and windowless while others were filled to the brim with an endless stack of chairs. Why did places like this always have a seemingly limitless supply of chairs? Why were there even chairs down here? The auditorium had its own built in seating for crying out loud and _man_ was he just really fucking bored if he was going off on a tangent about chairs.

He frowned, moving past the chair room and further down the hall. Mark had not wanted him to see the pre-rehearsal before they actually did the show, and so Jack had gone off in search of the gang's dressing room to wait in until they'd finished. The problem now, however, was that Jack didn't realize how windy the hallways actually were. He wasn't sure if he was still going the right way or not but Ethan had said their room was at the end so…

Jack ended up dumbly poking his head into all of the rooms, trying to find the right one. At least none of the others were around to tease him, he had that going for him.

Jack was finally reaching the end of the hallway, only two doors left. One on his left and one on his right, he had a 50/50 chance of getting this right. Jack ended up heading to the one on the left, pushing the door open. The sight that greeted him could only be described as sheer chaos. There was a small mini fridge with five water bottles sitting on top, each one at varying degrees of emptiness. Some looked as if their owner had only taken two sips before abandoning it. Luggage took up the majority of the small room, all of them standing up in the middle of the room looking as if they were having an important discussion about their human counterparts with how close together they were.

The Irishman precariously made his way into the room, being careful not to knock over the luggage, to a small metal chair that stood in front of the mini fridge. Various coats and shoes littered the couch that was pressed up against the wall opposite of the metal chair, a lone guitar strap hanging off the edge of the armrest. Jack laughed to himself as he took in the rest of the room, leave to all of his friends to make a dressing room feel like it was well lived in.

He sat down and pulled out his phone, flipping through a few pages of an e-book he'd recently purchased, crossing his right leg over his left, and propped his elbow on his knee. The phone was held close to his face. A nagging thought was starting to form in the back of his mind, trying to remind him that he should be wearing his glasses if he was going to be actively reading for a while. Jack's eyesight wasn't, horrible, but it certainly wasn't the best. Begrudgingly, he took them from their resting spot on the front of his shirt and popped them on.

Jack didn't have long to read though, he could hear the creaking of the stairs above him, loud voices booming in the relative quiet he'd been bathed in. Ethan and Tyler were the first to enter, greeting Jack with friendly waves as they walked over to the mini fridge and grabbed the water bottles sitting on top of it.

From the frame of the door, Bob's voice warned the two about the cold slowly sweeping its way through their ranks and that sharing water bottles was not the best idea. Ethan and Tyler merely shrugged as they made their way back towards the door, Jack vaguely hearing Ethan talking about vlogging for extra content. The Irishman listed off a couple things worth visiting that were close by, offering to go with them as he got up from his seat when Mark's booming voice cut him off.

"Did we bring anything for sore throats? I feel like I'm dying". The older man came into view, face scrunched up in pain, guitar slung over his shoulder and resting on his back.

"Yeah! It's in a Ziploc baggie in my bag," Ethan came back into the room, kneeling in front of his luggage and pulling out a Ziploc bag. He tossed the bag to Mark as he made his way back out of the room, "You can just toss it back in when you're done!" He made a move to join Tyler in the hallway but Mark stopped him, eyes scanning over the contents of the bag, "You know these Luden's are basically candy, right?"

Ethan merely shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips, "Yeah, but they don't have that gross menthol taste as much as other ones do". The younger man wrinkled his face in disgust for added effect and turned on his heels, "I won't stray too far, just want some sweet vlog footage!"

"Keep an eye on him Jack," Tyler called from down the hall, "He might try to get you sick too!"

Jack could only shake his head, a fond smile on his face, as his eyes turned to Mark. The older man was frowning deeply, reaching into the bag of cough drops Ethan had offered him and unwrapping one slowly. He popped it into his mouth, "I'm not a big fan of these sweet cough drops, might as well just eat candy". He grumbled under his breath as he entered the room, tossing the bag back onto Ethan's stuff before moving towards the couch.

"Sure, if yeh wanted to ruin that diet yer on". Jack took off his glasses, using them to point at Mark as if he were the American's therapist.

Mark merely grumbled, an awkward silence falling over the two, Jack stuffing his hands into his pockets while Mark nursed the cherry flavored cough drop in his mouth. He had his phone in one hand, thumb flicking rapidly through something as he plopped on the couch, carefully maneuvering his guitar from his back so that it lay flat across his lap.

"There's time for me to play something for you if you'd like," he began conversationally as he propped his guitar up on his knee, "There's still some time before the show". Mark tossed his phone aside, looking up to grin at the Irishman.

Jack shrugged, guitar was one of those instruments he had always seen people pick up easily and Mark was no exception. He'd seen plenty of videos of the American playing it in varying degrees of seriousness. Sometimes he'd be carelessly slapping the strings into an out of tune mess, while others showed him genuinely trying to play.

"Show me whatcha got off brand Ed Sheeran". Jack snickered playfully, tucking his glasses back onto his shirt for safe keeping.

Mark shot him an offended look but it was all goofy in its delivery, his face scrunching up dramatically as he made flabbergasted noises while he re-tuned his guitar. "I'll show you off brand", he grumbled as he situated himself more comfortably.

Jack hummed in response, not entirely sure whether Mark was going to be serious or goof off, there was a good chance it'd be the latter of those two options.

Mark leaned back into the couch, moving the guitar closer to his body and tilting it so the strings all faced him. He motioned for Jack to take a seat and the Irishman fell back into the chair he'd previously been sitting in, hands still firmly seated in his pockets. The all access pass Mark had given him made a small rattling sound, the clip banging gently against the metal frame of the chair that joined the noise of Mark tightening the strings.

The American finally seemed satisfied in his work, gently playing a few chords, clearing his throat as he did before he began to play.

It started off light hearted, soft as Mark's left hand easily shifted from chord to chord, his right-hand stroking down on the strings with ease. Jack watched as Mark's head bobbed up and down in time with his strokes, dark hair falling and obscuring his earthy brown eyes as they followed his hand form one chord to the next. There was something enchanting about the Mark was playing, the way it seemed to take all of his attention without having to try too hard, the way he sat without a care in the world as if he'd always been playing guitar. The small smile playing at his lips as he began to hum the words of the song he was playing.

Warmth began to spread throughout Jack's body, squeezing his heart before it spread through his body. Startled, the Irishman leaned forward in his seat, back hunched as if he were trying to escape unwanted attention, but the attention wasn't on him. All of his attention was on Mark, watching as the older man's foot twitched in time every now and again. The warmth only got worse, making Jack's hands feel clammy and cramped in the pockets of his jacket and he desperately tried to keep them there, lest he end up wringing his hands in front of Mark.

It wasn't until Mark seemed to get to the chorus of his song, his playing becoming slightly louder before returning to the easy rhythm he'd been playing beforehand, that he recognized the song Mark was playing. His mind landing on a specific stanza in the song: _I'll just keep on making the same mistakes._

The air in the room suddenly felt very hot, a soft ringing over taking the sound of the guitar. Distantly, the thought of going to a doctor about his tinnitus drifted through his mind but it was over powered by the word mistake repeating over and over in his head. He could hear himself clear his throat, it sounded too loud and harsh over the gentle way Mark continued to play, the other man seemed oblivious to what was happening.

It used to happen all the time when he was a teenager, he'd listen to a handful of heavy metal songs over and over, the lyrics prompting memories he thought he'd long since forgotten and emotions he had figured had disappeared with time. It was what was happening right now. He could see that day vividly, could hear Mark's disgust and feel his anger. It was threatening to pull him under, the world seemingly tilting on its edge, almost pulling Jack forward with how strong it felt.

Abruptly the world came back into focus when a loud knock echoed through the tiny dressing room, jolting Jack back into his body and causing him to flinch in his seat. Mark seemed unperturbed by the intrusion, looking over his shoulder to see the face of one of the stage crew beckoning him to check off on a few more things.

Jack took the moment of distraction to his advantage, jerkily moving to his feet and running a clammy hand through his hair, gripping a few strands tightly in order to ground himself. Mark was smiling and making a few bad jokes as he rose from his spot on the couch, "Duty calls". He turned that brilliant smile in Jack's direction and the world tilted once more.


	2. I'm so caught up in the Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack looked down at the sidewalk, treading carefully around the wad of gum he saw. “Yeh think I have somethin’ to do with that?”. His eyebrows pulled in tightly, his lips forming into a thin line. “I ain’t that special,” and then more to himself than to the young man next to him, “not in that way”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this has taken a life of it's own. I'm not sure where this'll end up but, I hope you all enjoy the ride!

“No, no! That’s _my_ joke, it’s always been _mine!_ ”

“No! I _distinctly_ remember me showing _you_ the joke, and then you stole it!”

“Wha-what? No, no, no, _NO!_ I’ve been doing it, WAY longer than you!”

Jack groaned, keeping his eyes purposefully trained on his food. They were currently gathered around a long table in a decently nice restaurant, the kind where couples went to spend a night away from their children or other responsibilities. Mark and Wade had been arguing about some weird ‘mask joke’, as the two called it, from the moment they had stepped foot in the restaurant. Bob, Tyler, and Ethan seemed utterly disinterested, though the trio had vented their frustrations in having to hear the argument for the fifth time that night. Either way, they had been happily chatting away with each other as soon as they’d been seated, backs effectively facing away from Mark and Wade.

They seemed to be in a world of their own and Jack envied them. The more invested Mark and Wade seemed to get into their argument, the louder their voices got, garnering unwanted attention. It was causing Jack to fidget in his seat and he had the misfortune to meet the annoyed glances of others as he tried to look away from the heated debate happening in front of him. He wished he could drown out the senseless argument as expertly as the others were doing.

Just once, Jack would have liked a peaceful outing with Mark and the others. His time with his friends was very limited, and this year was going to be nothing but traveling and he’d like to be able to reminisce on this moment happily rather than awkwardly shove it aside.

“Ladies, ladies, you’re both beautiful!” Tyler’s tired voice broke through the argument. Jack looked up from his food to see the taller man leaning forward and past Ethan, who had sat next to him, to stare at the two men arguing. He leaned an elbow on the table and was cupping his face in the palm of his hand. He was trying to look fed up, but the small smile splitting across his face meant he was finding the situation hilarious again.

Mark didn’t immediately respond, he was too busy shoveling food into his mouth and wildly pointing at Tyler, letting his friend know he had heard him. Wade took the rare opportunity of silence from Mark’s booming voice to shove the other man’s hand away, leaning forward to say, “Yes I am, and _I’m_ right”.

Mark made a disgruntled noise, mouth forming a thin line as his jaw worked furiously at the food still in his mouth, eyes flashing wildly behind the frames of his glasses. He angrily grabbed his glass of water, swallowing a large mouthful before he whirled on Wade, “I’m the only one both beautiful and right! You _can’t_ be both”.

They spiraled back into their argument, Jack looking back at his own food that was getting cold. He was thinking about excusing himself and making the long trek back to the train station to wait for his ride back home when Mark’s yelling caught his attention.

“Jack! You settle this!”

Jack’s eyes widened as he stared back at Mark’s determined face, the dim lighting of the restaurant causing the lines in his forehead to look infinitely more intimidating than was warranted for the stupidity of the argument.

“Why me?” He asked after a heartbeat, settling back in his chair and bringing his hands under the table.

“Yeah why him?!” Wade exclaimed, looking entirely put off by the way the tides were turning, “You’ve been friends with him longer, it’s obvious he’d choose you!”

“Now, now Wade,” Bob’s calm voice entered the fray, all eyes turning to look at him as he casually sipped his water, “Who are you to speak for Jack huh? Let the man decide for himself”.  
Wade pouted while Mark thanked Bob with an over exaggerated gesture, Jack still wondering why they even had to do something like this in public.

“Okay,” Mark began as he rubbed his hands together enthusiastically, pushing aside his plate as he placed both elbows onto the table. “This is how it’s going to go, we’ll both do the whole, ‘It was me “insert chosen name here” all along! And then Jack will decide who does it better”. Wade narrowed his eyes, “How do we decide what to say?”, and then before Mark could answer, “And no it can’t be ‘your mom’”.

Mark’s face instantly fell, his own eyes narrowing at Wade as Ethan giggled fiercely, “But think of how funny that would be!” he managed to get out.

“You guys have to say the same thing, otherwise it wouldn’t be fair”, Tyler’s voice was even as he spoke, sounding far too serious about this.

Mark scoffed, tossing his head back in disbelief as he leaned over to look at his childhood friend, “This isn’t about being fair, this is about _me_ being right!”.

“Oh, of course it is, how silly of me”, Tyler rolled his eyes, “Unless someone comes up with anything better it’s going to have to be what we go with”.

“If I’m ta be the judge of this, then yeh might as well use ‘your mom’”. Jack finally found his voice in all of this, and honestly, he just wanted to put the argument to rest and never have to be in this kind of situation again.

Wade groaned loudly, clearly upset but agreed nonetheless, “Fine, fine, why don’t you go first Mark, since you’re so sure of yourself”.

“No, no, ladies first” he said with a straight face before bursting into laughter. Wade visibly sagged in his seat but quickly straightened out, seemingly more determined to win now.

Jack smiled, his own nervous laughter bubbling out of his mouth as he leaned forward in his seat, “Lay it on me Wade!”

The older man cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders forward as if getting ready for a fight. It only made him look ridiculous and Jack couldn’t take him seriously, the nervous laughter blooming into a raucous laugh that caused Wade himself to break down.

“Get on with it Wade,” Mark impatiently chimed in and Wade quickly schooled his features before finally going.

“It was me,” Wade began, his voice pitching in sound as he tried to keep himself from laughing again, his left hand cupping the bottom of his chin as if he were ripping off a mask, “Your mom the whole time!” The older man couldn’t keep his face straight in the few seconds where Jack stared at him completely expressionless because before the Irishman could say anything, Wade was laughing and tossing his hands up in the air. Jack’s façade cracked, and he clutched at his sides as he joined in.

“All right, all right, let me show you how a pro does it”. Marks voice was full of false bravado, the kind he would use in videos when he knew he was about to make a fool of himself but was trying to play it off cool.

Mark sat straighter, pushing himself away from the table and clearing his throat as Wade had done. “It was me,” he started, staring at Jack straight on and suddenly the Irishman felt giddy, he shifted in his seat slightly as he tried to remain impartial.

Instead of immediately finishing it off, Mark remained quiet, right hand moving towards his face but not in the motion of taking off a pretend mask. Instead, he gripped the corner of his glasses, ripping them from his face in a practiced motion, tossing his head up in a dramatic fashion that would have had women swooning. His hair was now a tussled mess, his stare intense and his voice impossibly deep as he spoke, “Your mom the whole time”.

That line, in the very least, _should not_ have driven a shiver down Jack’s spine, but it was the way in which it had been delivered that made Jack’s body impossibly warmer. It felt as if time had slowed and he and Mark were the only ones unaffected by it. The American was staring at him, his eyes narrowed in a way that spoke volumes, eyes that almost seemed to be beckoning Jack forward. He brought his tongue out to lick at his chapped lips, never breaking eye contact with Mark and Jack could’ve sworn that the American’s eyes followed the motion.

And then the moment faded…

All the sounds came crashing back in around Jack, everyone laughing loudly and even Wade was bent over the table, palms slamming the table. Jack let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, pressing his back against his seat as he looked around the table, trying to ground himself. Mark was rifling his fingers through his hair, his teeth bared in a blinding smile as he laughed.

“I guess I never stood a chance,” Wade wheezed as he wiped a few stray tears from his eyes.

Jack swallowed nervously, shaky laughter escaping his mouth before he had a chance to calm his erratic heartbeat. What was going on with him? Did no one else notice the awkward pause between he and Mark? Jack stole a couple glances around the table at the still laughing faces, everyone looked…normal. Bob’s face was bright red from withholding his laughter to a manageable volume, Ethan and Tyler had their heads thrown back in raucous amusement. Wade was still wiping the tears from his face, not at all aware of the intimate moment shared between the two men.

_Mark._

Jack cleared his throat and grabbed his glass of water, chugging it down as if his life depended on it. Mark didn’t seem fazed at all, still bright smile and light laughter surrounding him. The older man caught Jack looking at him and the Irishman inhaled as he gulped down water, coughing harshly as he quickly placed the glass back down.

“Seems like you got to Jack with that impression Mark”, Jack brought his arm up to cover his coughing fit as Bob smacked him on the back a couple times. He ducked his head away as everyone laughed again, hoping to whatever god was out there that his face wasn’t completely red. Curse him and his stupidly pearly white flesh.

-.-

“I’m really sorry we took up so much of your time”. Ethan’s concerned voice sounded from beside Jack, the younger man pouting slightly as he looked to Jack.

Jack _had_ meant to keep better tabs on the time, the last train out had left the station an hour ago and everyone at the table had agreed that the Irishman would stay over at the hotel. Jack had tried to persuade them otherwise, but Mark had offered up his room already and had been off on the next topic of discussion.

Sometimes Mark’s hospitality really bothered Jack.

They’d finally left the restaurant and Jack was relieved at being able to breathe fresh air, after his awkward slow-mo moment with Mark, the Irishman had desperately needed to breathe air that didn’t smell of pasta sauce. Jack hummed and shook his head, “S’not a problem, shoulda kept an eye on teh time a bit better, no worries”.

Ethan seemed placated at that, nodding his head and looking forward once more. The two of them were bringing up the rear of the group, with Mark and the others a few feet ahead of them. Jack couldn’t help but watch as the American talked animatedly with his friends, going on about something he wanted to try for either tour or a video. From what he could gather, if Tyler’s head shake was anything to go by, it was probably something outlandishly stupid.

It didn’t surprise Jack in the least, Mark was often very... _creative_ when it came to coming up with ideas for skits. The more absurd the better was what _had_ to go through the older man’s mind when listing off concept after concept. He was like a child whose creativity was limited only by the cautious words of their parents. From where he was walking, Mark looked the part of a child against the taller frames of his friends and Jack couldn’t help but snicker. If he’d bothered to voice this out loud, Mark would give him one of those exasperated looks before spouting off on how he was taller than the Irishman.

It was only a few inches, but Jack knew how sensitive the older man was about his height.

Ethan must’ve hear him because he looked up from his phone to the group in front of him and then back to Jack.

“It’s been great having you see the show, it really means a lot to us, especially Mark”.

Even though it was said lightheartedly, the fact that Ethan had placed emphasis on Mark being especially grateful, sent shivers down his spine. He clenched and unclenched his hands from within the pockets of his jacket, “Of course, it’s been great seeing everyone. Yeh guys put a lot of heart into teh show, I can tell”.

“Yeah, we’ve gotten it down pretty well. Some nights are better than others and the energy we had tonight, I don’t know, it felt different”. Ethan’s voice sounded far away, as if the younger man had stopped in his tracks as Jack continued walking. Jack turned his attention toward him and found that Ethan was in fact still walking beside him, but he had this far off look in his eyes, as if trying to piece together something.

Whatever it was it quickly faded, and the serious light in Ethan’s eyes disappeared and was replaced with its usually happiness. “I think he wanted to put on a good show for you, Jack”.

Jack had to turn his face away at how that sentence made him feel. That couldn’t be it, Mark was the kind of guy who put his heart and soul into everything, even terrible jokes like the one that had happened at dinner. It had nothing to do with Jack being there that had made the audience laugh any louder or had made the sparkle in Mark’s eye any brighter as he sang. They’d only _just_ gotten back on speaking terms, and aside from what had transpired at dinner, the two hadn’t really talked one on one.

“I doubt that,” he began as he looked at Ethan, “Yeh know how Mark gets with his work”.

Ethan shrugged, but nodded his head after a moment or two, “Yeah, he’s a workaholic who happens to be a perfectionist who also happens to yell at his computer screen for hours on end”. Ethan turned a cheeky grin towards the Irishman, “Sound familiar?”

Jack laughed, bumping his shoulder playfully into Ethan, causing the younger man to falter in his steps before he let out his own laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re two peas in a pod, what’s yer point?” That last part came out harsher than Jack had meant it to. An apology was on the tip of his tongue but Ethan spoke before the Irishman could say anything.

“I guess what I’m getting at is, I’ve never seen Mark connect with someone so quickly, I swear, it’s like you’re long lost brothers or something”. Ethan scratched the back of his head, silent for a few moments as Jack presumed he was gathering his thoughts.

“He’s been in a funk lately, I don’t really know how else to explain it really. Sure, he’s been excited about tour and giving it his all, but it’s just felt like something’s been missing like I said before”.

Jack looked down at the sidewalk, treading carefully around the wad of gum he saw. “Yeh think _I_ have somethin’ to do with that?” He felt like his face was on fire again, like how it’d felt back in the restaurant, and he frowned. His eyebrows pulled in tightly, his lips forming into a thin line. “I ain’t that special,” and then more to himself than to the young man next to him, “not in that way”.

The sheer weight of that statement hit Jack like a ton of bricks suddenly, so much so that he faltered in his steps, just missing hitting a light post. Ethan might have asked if he was okay, he couldn’t be sure, his mind was running a hundred miles a minute. Not in that way? Then in what way? What had he meant by that? A moment ago, he’d felt like his body was on fire, now he felt like his blood was running ice cold through his veins. He shivered violently, hands clenching tightly into fists.

This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good at all, he was walking back with everyone to the hotel, and he’d missed his train so there was no excuse to not stay with them. Mark had already offered up his room, would it be weird if he suddenly changed his mind and asked any of the others to switch places with him?

_Mark._

What did any of this mean? What were these feelings that he was…feeling? Sure, he’d been a long-time fanboy of the man, gushing about him in almost every one of his old videos. Was he still feeling something along those lines? After all this time? What was that something? Admiration? Appreciation? Adoration?

Jack felt lightheaded, and he brought a shaky hand up to take his glasses off and pinch the bridge of his nose. He let out a shaky breath, that last word had numerous synonyms, but one in particular popped up in mind as bright as day.

_Love._

…Mark…love…

_Oh, dear Lord…_

No, he couldn’t. This wasn’t right, Mark was his friend. He couldn’t be in love with Mark because the man didn’t love him back, he’d made it abundantly clear that day. Yet he had opened his big mouth and had said the one thing he hadn’t wanted the older man to hear. This wasn’t right.

The Irishman stopped in his tracks, the sounds of the world around him going quiet and he briefly thought he was finally going deaf. He felt sick to his stomach, he felt like he wanted to shout at the random stranger passing by him who looked confused as to why he’d stopped. Didn’t he hear? Jack was sure he was thinking loud enough for everyone around him to hear. He brought a hand up to his mouth, felt how hard his hand was shaking and it only fed into the sick feeling of bile rising in his throat.

He felt hands, Ethan’s hands his fractured mind supplied to him, and he stared back at pale gray-green eyes that were laced with concern…

Jack ended up throwing up all over Ethan before the younger man could open his mouth.


	3. On the flip side, love is Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When had he’d fallen for him? Had it been the first time they’d done a video together? The first time they’d done a panel together? The first time Mark had flirted back at him? Or had it been slow to build? Like how you would have to carefully stoke a fire in order for it to grow bigger and brighter than it’d been before. Had Jack been blinded by the inevitability of falling for Mark?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fairly new to both Mark and Jack's channels, and I only recently realized they hadn't been talking as frequently as they used to. Why they haven't is their business, and this story is just a work of fiction. I respect both of their actual relationships and love them like an older and little brother. Writing is just my creative outlet.

Jack grimaced and took two large gulps of water from the bottle Mark had offered him, he could still taste the bile in the back of his throat. His friends had all rushed to his shaking frame just moments before, their concern blending together into an incoherent mess that had threatened to make Jack’s head swim even more. They had all walked back at a slower pace and Jack had had to lean onto Tyler as the Irishman had swayed back and forth on his own feet.

Mark had taken over when they’d all entered the hotel, everyone bidding Jack to get well, before they had parted ways. The Irishman had been too out of it to convincingly tell the American he could walk on his own. Mark probably wouldn’t have listened to him even if he hadn’t thrown up everywhere, that’s just the kind of guy he was.

“M’fine, really, stop mothering me already”.

“Not until you agree to eat those saltines”.

“M’not hungry, I already told yeh”.

“Well no duh, you threw up everything you just ate”.

“D’yeh want meh to throw up again?”

Now he was sitting in Mark’s hotel room, drinking water that he hoped to keep down, though he was still feeling nauseous and thinking about eating saltines wasn’t one of his priorities much to Mark’s dismay.

Mark looked over from his place at the foot of his own bed, a pair of sweatpants clutched in his hands, a frown etched onto his face. “Just try a nibble, better to know how your stomach’s doing _now_ rather than later”. It was Jack’s turn to frown, bottom lip pushed out in defiance. It made him look like a child being reprimanded.

Mark quirked an eyebrow at him, clearly not willing to drop the topic until Jack relented.

“Fine, fine,” Jack finally huffed and moved to grab the box of crackers from the bedside table and bring them onto his lap. He blinked roughly a few times, his head swimming at the sudden movement and for a second Jack thought he was going to vomit again. He made the motion to do so, Mark reading his body language faster than Jack was able to command his body to lean forward. The American was there in a few swift motions, grabbing the garbage can and placing it down in front of Jack. He sat opposite of the Irishman, waiting patiently.

Jack gagged twice, coughing roughly and shaking before he brought up the water he’d managed to keep down. He spat into the garbage, his sides hurt from his muscles contracting so much. Jack fell to his right side and buried his face into the pillows. His hands searched for the box of saltines and when he closed his fingers around a corner, he chucked it further down the bed and out of his sight.

If this was what having a crush on Mark was going to make him feel, then he didn’t want to feel it.

He groaned and buried his face further, maybe if he tried hard enough he could smother away all of the emotions that were eating him up alive. He really shouldn’t be this worked up over a crush of all things, it was annoying him-that, and he had just payed for a decent meal, so he felt like it was money down the drain. But Jack had had plenty of crushes before, albeit they’d all been girls, and not once had Jack reacted the way he had done tonight. It was embarrassing and Mark mothering him wasn’t making him feel any better.

Jack heard the switch of the bathroom light go off and he watched as Mark came back to his bedside with a fresh bag in the garbage can. The Irishman grumbled under his breath when Mark bent over to place a hand on his forehead, “Will yeh stop? This motherin’s makin’ meh feel worse”. Jack brought a hand up to bat Mark’s away. It was bad enough that he’d come to the realization that he… _cared_ about Mark as more than just best friends. The word love made his stomach do dangerous flips still. More than anything though, he didn’t need the man touching him and constantly asking if he was all right.

Mark dropped his hand saying nothing for a few moments as he turned around and resumed what he’d been doing earlier. The older man had been looking for some extra clothing for Jack to sleep in and he’d just found an extra pair of sweatpants when Jack’s body had decided to deprive him of water as well.

“Your accent gets thicker when you’re not feeling well”, it was Jack’s turn to quirk an eyebrow in the man’s direction, but it seemed that Mark was decidedly refusing to look up at him.

“It’s nothing serious,” Jack began as he made a conscious effort to tone down his Irish accent. “It’s just…stress…is all, yeh know how the job gets”. Jack sighed as Mark continued to look through his suitcase, still not meeting his gaze, and he rolled his eyes as he slowly sat himself up.

“I’m fine, really” and then, “I wouldn’t lie to yeh”.

That was a lie, but it slipped easily enough from his lips and Jack couldn’t find it in his heart to take it back. Instead, he worried the inside of his lip, watching Mark closely as the man finally looked up at him. His stare made Jack feel like he was naked, the way it seemed to pierce through and look into his very soul. Jack fought the urge to shiver, choosing instead to curl his toes in discomfort before the intense gaze faded away to genuine concern.

“Yeah, yeah I know how it gets…is it anything I can help with or…that you want to talk about?”

Oh Mark, ever the man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

“Coming to see yeh guys and having a night off is help enough”. That was the truth, Jack was genuinely happy to have been able to see them and, if he hadn’t gone into a panic over Mark, he’d probably have worked himself into the early hours of the morning. Again. So, having this one night of respite wouldn’t hurt him.

Mark continued to stare at him, it was becoming uncomfortable and Jack cleared his throat louder than necessary. The noise seemed to snap Mark out of whatever he’d been thinking of and he turned to grab the extra clothes and tossed them in Jack’s direction.

“I’m sure you’ll want to change,” Mark smiled brightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I don’t want to smell vomit all night, and I’m sure you don’t want to either”.

Yup, that sure was Mark all right, always wearing his heart on his sleeve while simultaneously looking out for his best interests.

“Thanks, fer that,” Jack drawled as he carefully extracted himself from the bed, clothes in hand as he carefully toed the garbage can away from his feet. Jack brought the front of his shirt up to his face, gagging at the smell, he’d have to run this shirt through the wash a million times before he’d be able to forget _this_ smell, maybe even burn it if it never came out…and speaking of…

Jack turned to his eyes to Mark, the older man catching his gaze and moving to grab the garbage can if he needed, when Jack stopped him with his voice, “Is Ethan’s jacket going to smell forever?”

The corners of Mark’s lips twitched, the older man trying to fight back a smile and laughter, “Probably, their room might smell all night”. Jack rolled his eyes at the older man’s lack of self-control, walking past him but stopping just shy of entering the bathroom, “I’ll get him another one”.

Mark shook his head, “Nah, he’d never let you, it wasn’t your fault”. Jack opened his mouth to say more but stopped when Mark threw a toothbrush at him, “Ethan’s a big boy Jack, he’ll be fine”.

-.-

“I never really thanked you”.

Mark’s voice broke the silence the two of them had been sitting in. Jack had been idly nibbling on the saltines, his stomach finally allowing him to keep something down. One of the crackers was held between his lips and teeth, half eaten as he’d been scrolling through his phone. They probably should have both been asleep by now, and in fact, Jack had urged Mark to sleep. The Irishman was used to staying up late, he’d done it just earlier that day after all, but Mark hadn’t quite fallen asleep yet. The American was instead choosing to close his eyes for a few minutes at a time before bringing up something funny that had happened earlier that day or cracking a joke. Jack knew Mark needed sleep, without it, the older man was like a zombie, the way he’d shuffle from room to room in search of coffee instead of brains.

Besides, Jack often had trouble sleeping in new places anyway. He appreciated the clothes Mark had given him to sleep in, but they weren’t _his_ and this wasn’t _his_ room back home. He looked over to find Mark staring at him, though his eyes were flicking back and forth in an unfocused manner.

“It’s weird when yeh look at me without your glasses”.

Nice Jack, really nice there.

The unfocused gaze Mark had sharpened instantly, eyes narrowing as he sat up from his position on his bed, the sheets falling down and pooling around his lap. “Yeah well, I could just squint at you from now on if you’d prefer”. He leaned forward at the same time Jack leaned back, “Yer going to ruin yer eyes further, stop”. Jack laughed, shoving at the air between him and Mark before the American relaxed his face, running a hand through his hair as he sat back.

Jack tossed his phone aside on the extra bed, “But yeh wanted to thank me, for what, exactly?” The Irishman watched as Mark’s eyes trailed down to stare at his hands, his fingertips playing with the sheets before he spoke. “For coming to the show, after…you know… the shit that happened between us”.

_Oh._

So, they were going to be talking about _that_ , now were they? Jack sat straighter against the wall of pillows he had been lazily propped up against. Mark was still staring down at his sheets and this allowed the surprise to wash over Jack’s entire being. The Irishman ran a hand down his face, he suddenly felt very tired.

Jack wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about this, especially after his epiphany earlier. And yet…

“I mean…I was still…I would have- “Jack let out an annoyed huff of breath, the words forming in his mind but not quite translating into actual speech. Maybe he should just listen to his body for once tonight, get some sleep, and then maybe talk about this tomorrow. Maybe by then he’d have control over his own emotions, have them better sorted out and filed neatly away. Mark brought his head up, body slightly swaying back and forth, his head tilted to one side as if it were too heavy to hold upright. Sleep was what they both needed right now but…

This was a conversation that had been in the back of Jack’s mind for some time now, except it usually started with angry yelling and ended in them taking another break from their friendship. Running through the vast array of different scenarios had ruined one of his regular filming days so much that he’d ended up playing rage inducing games to vent his frustrations. He’d sent the raw footage off to Robin who’d sent worried messages back, asking if he needed a day off.

No, what Jack _needed_ was to sift through all of his damn emotions and figure out why he’d been so quick to place all of the blame on Mark. Now that he was getting his chance however, Jack was decidedly not looking forward to having this conversation. A nagging voice in the back of Jack’s skull was practically yelling at him to say something, _anything_. Who knew when he and Mark would get to see each other again. This could be Jack’s only shot at having this conversation face to face as opposed to behind computer screens.

“Of course,” Jack finally decided on, but even those words weren’t the ones he’d been searching for, but they would have to do for now. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, the words left his mouth feeling incredibly dry, and he had to swallow a few times to get past the lump that had formed deep in his throat.

Mark hummed, his unfocused gaze still looking at him, and Jack stared right back, both of them sitting in silence. Suddenly Mark let out an annoyed grunt, falling back onto his bed, arm tossed over his face and hiding his eyes away.

“I really fucked up”.

That was putting it mildly, but Jack grimaced all the same. He didn’t like seeing Mark beat himself up over their fight, but knew they needed to _at least_ acknowledge it before moving forwards. Jack made the motion of leaving his bed, instinctually wanting to go over and provide comfort to his friend, but instead he stayed put, unsure if it was the right thing to do.

When had this gotten so hard? Comforting a friend, no matter what they’d done, should have been easy enough for Jack. He’d never really been the kind to stay upset at someone for long, he didn’t like the effort he had to put into being actively angry for prolonged hours of the day. This was something new, something he wasn’t quite sure how to approach but was trying to despite this.

“Well…yeh didn’ fuck up alone”. Jack’s voice was quiet as he stared at Mark. It was true, he had let his anger at the situation overtake him and he’d shut down so quickly it had even scared him.

“Yeah, that was like, the angriest I have _ever_ seen you get at something that wasn’t a video game”. Mark’s voice was quiet, filled with a sense of wonder, a small laugh escaping his mouth.

“Well if yeh weren’t such a fuckin’ asshole all the time,” Jack’s voice had more bite in it then he’d intended and Mark’s laughter abruptly stopped, a weird tension blanketing over them once again.

Jack knew that Mark’s brain worked faster than his mouth sometimes, words spewing from the American’s mouth in an unfiltered fashion. Mark would only realize what he had said in the moments where no one immediately spoke afterwards, where snickers and jabs followed suit. He also knew that Mark was one of the most open-minded people he knew. The American had done videos in the past where he’d talk for minutes on end about a certain cause he felt particularly strong about. His never-ending supply of support boggled the Irishman’s mind, Mark seemed to constantly give and he rarely ever took. If Jack didn’t know any better, he would’ve pegged the man as an eccentric extrovert, but deep down he knew Mark was incredibly private and sensitive.

It was why the total left field response Mark had had to a question about fanfiction had thrown Jack’s entire perception of the man out the window.

It’d been casually brought up in one of their prop hunt videos with Bob and Wade, one that never got to see the light of day. Wade innocently brought up how he’d come across pictures depicting Mark and Jack kissing on Tumblr and how one thing had led to another and he’d ended up running across fanfiction on the site. Jack didn’t know what had triggered Mark, but the man had been easy to agitate that day and with Wade talking so casually about them being drawn and written together in that way, had set him off. Mark angrily shot back about how he didn’t appreciate how his words were being taken out of context. Sure, he’d say some pretty questionable things, but he and Jack would always laugh about it, it didn’t mean anything, they didn’t _love_ each other in that way.

He said it was gross, and _that_ was when Jack had gotten angry. The Irishman leapt to the defense of the community, yelling at Mark that they had a certain right to create what they wanted and that, since they both _knew_ about those kinds of works, they could easily avoid what they didn’t want to see. By calling it gross, Jack had felt Mark was calling being gay gross, and the Irishman couldn’t abide by that. Jack felt like Mark was inadvertently calling _himself_ gross, and Jack’s entire being shook at that. He felt like his heart was being torn apart and he was suddenly having to choose between his best friend and the love he felt for the community. Jack had become aggressively passionate, defending a person’s right to love who they wanted. They’d all abandoned the game at this point, Bob and Wade desperately trying to find their voices over the angry shouts of Jack and Mark.

_“Why does me loving yeh have to be gross!”_

It had slipped, bubbling up from somewhere deep, deep down. It was something Jack himself hadn’t accurately identified yet but felt so fiercely. When he had said that, Jack had been under the assumption that the love he felt for Mark was completely platonic, but the way his heart had hammered against his chest had started to cast doubt over everything he thought he knew. His outburst had caused Mark to stumble across his own words, the entire group falling silent as they all let the words sink in, trying to decipher them individually. Jack hadn’t given them time to respond however, he’d disconnected too quickly.

Jack looked up from his musings to see that Mark was still splayed out on the bed, and an aching fondness grabbed hold of Jack’s heart.

He was in _love_ with his best friend.

The acceptance of that four-letter word hurt, and Jack had to look away as a familiar sting began to prick the corners of his eyes. Why did he have to be in love with _Mark_ of all people, why couldn’t he just be in love with that cute coffee barista back home. She always managed to sneak him a fresh cookie no matter how late he’d visit. Literally anyone else would have been fine, perfect even. It’d just felt like he was getting his life together and now the universe was pulling the rug out from under his feet, pointing and laughing at his face like the bullies from his childhood.

It just wasn’t fair.

When had he’d fallen for him? Had it been the first time they’d done a video together? The first time they’d done a panel together? The first time Mark had flirted back at him? Or had it been slow to build? Like how you would have to carefully stoke a fire in order for it to grow bigger and brighter than it’d been before. Had Jack been blinded by the inevitability of falling for Mark?

“Did you mean it?” Jack heard the rustling of the bed sheets, the soft clink of Mark picking up his glasses from the bedside table. Jack wasn’t sure what the older man was referring to, was he talking about him calling Mark an asshole? Because, Jack did mean that, to a certain degree. The American knew which buttons to press to drive Jack over the edge after all. Either way, the Irishman took a deep breath, steeling his heart and willing the unshed tears away before turning to face Mark.

“Mean what? That yer an asshole?” He cocked his eyebrow at the man, trying to keep his voice even.

“What? No, no. I mean, when we argued that day, you said something about loving me, did you mean it?”

_No._

No, no, no, a thousand times no. Jack was not ready to open that can of worms, especially when he’d just reached the conclusion that he was in love with Mark not even five seconds ago. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster, and he briefly wondered if Mark would be able to hear it as they were currently bathed in silence.

“Y-yeah,” Jack finally managed, he wasn’t sure if he was talking too loud or too quiet, he couldn’t hear over the rush of blood he felt traveling to his ears. “I mean, I’ll always love ya man”.

How could he not?

Mark huffed, leaning forward and almost falling off the bed, “No, I don’t think that’s how you meant it”.

Jack narrowed his eyes at the older man, how dare he say it so casually, so calmly. He sounded as if he already knew the answer and it was honestly grating on Jack’s nerves. Mark was trying to pry the answer from him, so Jack would have to tell him in his own words, so then he could listen as Mark tried to rationalize his feelings for him as nothing more as brotherly.

Jack didn’t think he could stand that, but maybe he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t mean to fall in love, least of all, with his best friend.

“What do you want from me?” Jack hated the way how his voice broke around the words, how he sucked in a deep breath, how the tears fell down his face. He hated the look of concern and sympathy Mark was giving him, Jack didn’t need or want it.

“I-I…” Mark was struggling to find any words. He was leaning forward in his spot, wringing his hands over and over.

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” Jack ground his teeth together, the words hissing out. His tears clouded his eyes and Jack angrily scrubbed at his face. He let out an annoyed huff of air before he ran a hand through his hair and gripped it tightly. His body wanted to run, the fight or flight instinct kicking in, but the sheer ache he felt in his sides as he gulped down breath after breath kept him glued to his spot. He couldn’t run away, couldn’t hide from this anymore, had to face it head on. He wasn’t ready, _knew_ he wasn’t ready but had engaged head on anyways. Stupid. Why was he _so stupid!_

“Jack, hey! Jack, calm down…Sean!”

The use of his real name snapped Jack out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Mark sitting next to him, a hand placed lightly on his knee. Vaguely, the Irishman could feel his heartbeat slowing, he must’ve gotten worked up again. He frowned, not bothering to push Mark’s hand away. How much more embarrassment could he take?

“I didn’t mean to push you,” Mark brought his own hand back but didn’t take his eyes away from the man in front of him. “I never meant to hurt you”.

Jack frowned, “Yeh already did, twice”. He might have felt some regret in bringing it up, but damnit, Mark was the one who’d brought all of this up in the first place, and Jack would be damned to hell if the American thought he was going to go easy on him.

“Yeh wanna know what I meant? How about I tell yeh how I _felt_. I was-was angry and-and hurt. Yeh gotta a big mouth, and yeh just…let it run off. Sometimes I encourage it, and sometimes it’s been too much, and it gets yeh in trouble-us, in trouble”. Jack took in a shaky breath, wiping at his face as more tears that fell. He didn’t realize how pent up his frustration at the older man was, he’d been angry the day that all of this had happened but, he didn’t know how deeply it’d had affected him.

“That day, I don’t know what set yeh off, but it hurt, to hear you calling everything gross…I felt like you were calling _me_ gross and then I just,” Jack threw his hands up in the air, “I just let it out”. He looked up at the ceiling, as if it held all the answers he needed.

“I meant it. I didn’t know how much, but I meant it”. Jack looked down to see that Mark had bowed his head, the older man’s hands clutching the white bedsheets as a life line. It was weird, what came over Jack then was a sense of peace, the burden of his pent of emotions draining him of everything else. It was odd, to have felt everything but now feel so calm.

Jack sighed and closed his eyes, he was so tired.

“I love yeh, Mark”.

Jack expected Mark to laugh, to pat him on the back and tell him that he didn’t feel the same way. He expected Mark to rationalize his emotions away, or maybe even yell at him.

What he hadn’t expected was to be enveloped in a spine crushing hug.

He gasped in surprise, eyes opening to stare into the dark brown hair of Mark. The American’s shoulders were shaking, his grip incredibly strong despite this. Jack felt something wet hit his neck, and when Mark took in a deep breath, he knew that the man was crying. Jack did feel guilty then, he supposed this was the best alternative he could’ve asked for. His arms came up of their own accord and wrapped themselves around the shaking frame of his American friend. At the end of the day, Mark was still Jack’s friend, and Jack cared too much about the man’s well-being to let him suffer too much.

“I never meant for you to feel gross, Jack, that was _never_ my intention”. Mark’s voice was muffled but close enough to Jack’s ear that he could make out what the other man was saying. “You have no idea how much I regret _everything_ I did, and didn’t, say”.

The older man pulled away, his arms still firmly placed around Jack’s body as the Irishman pulled back as well. Mark’s eyes were shining brightly with tears, his glasses pushed up at a crooked angle. If the American had more to say, he didn’t say so right away, the two merely looked at one another, searching the face of the one staring back. Jack let his arms fall from Mark’s shoulders to rest around his waist, noted the way it could be taken as an intimate action, but looking into Mark’s earth colored eyes showed that the man knew it wasn’t meant to be taken as such.

Mark smiled sadly, more tears falling from the corners of his eyes, “When did this get so complicated?”

Jack hummed, feeling the words get caught in his throat when he felt his own tears fall down his face again, “When I fell in love with yeh”.

Mark shook his head, a hand coming up to fix his glasses before returning to their place around Jack, “Don’t say that, it’s not true”.

The Irishman let out a broken sigh, bowing his head and falling towards Mark. He rested his head on the older man’s shoulder, breathing in deeply. Mark smelled like the forest after it rained, fresh and clean yet woodsy, like the very air was made of the earth you walked on. Jack buried his nose in it, he wanted to commit it to memory incase this was the last time he’d even be this close to Mark again.

“Then what is?”

“My love for you”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this was inspired by a story PoemIsDead is writing, and if you haven't read any of their work, I'd highly recommend doing so. It's a thousands times better than mine!


	4. I think I'm in love, in love Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it was the way he’d look at his screen during those videos back then, the way his eyes would brighten every time Jack would call out his name. The fans had surely noticed, and Mark had had to feign his sorrow for the loss of being able to stare at Jack when the Irishman had suggested they stop playing like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think it warrants a rating change, I think it's relatively tame :)

He hated seeing him like this, and knowing it was _his_ fault for making him feel this way was what hurt the most.

Mark knew what had put him in such a foul mood that day. People poking their noses into business that wasn’t theirs to know, finding ways to twits his words. He had thought he had a better handle on things, expertly dodging questions about his relationship with Jack, saying that it was clearly platonic and that nothing would come from it.

But that had been before he started feeling weird talking to Jack late at night, early in the morning, and after lunch. It was that giddy feeling he’d get when he’d come up with a particularly great idea for a video, his body filling with a nervous, but excited energy. Something that kept his mind running until his body finally crashed and he would have to give in to sleep. He’d thought it was normal, Jack was his best friend, someone he had connected with instantly, why wouldn’t he feel excited at every chance he got to talk with the Irishman?

Maybe it was the way he’d look at his screen during those videos back then, the way his eyes would brighten every time Jack would call out his name. The fans had surely noticed, and Mark had had to feign his sorrow for the loss of being able to stare at Jack when the Irishman had suggested they stop playing like that.

He’d tried to write it off as nothing but brotherly love, something that he felt fiercely towards Ethan and Tyler. Mark thought that what he’d been feeling was something akin to that, he didn’t feel like he had anything to worry about. So, he kept making lewd jokes at Jack who would fire his own right back at him and at the end of the day, they would laugh and still be friends.

It’d happened faster for Mark than it had for Jack.

It must have been in the first year of their friendship, back when they had first seen each other in person. They’d been walking around, the day had been nice, but then rain had come and they’d both ran into the safety of a nearby coffee shop. It might have been the way the rain dripped down the tips of his ears and onto his shirt, rolling down the soft folds of flesh before their grip loosened. Or the way Jack’s dark hair had been plastered against his forehead, making his baby blue eyes impossibly brighter. Or the way the pink tint in his cheeks seemed to have grown exponentially bigger when Mark complimented him.

In truth, it had been all of those things and so much more.

The longer Mark had tried to play it off as brotherly love, the more it felt like it was developing into something more intimate. He’d caught himself, more times than he had cared to admit at the time, being overly friendly towards the Irishman. Making more lewd comments than what was necessary, touching him for longer than was appropriate.

Mark would have to school his composure, make his way slowly back into being a friend as opposed to pretending their friendship was something else. He could be what Jack needed him to be, a friend or a brother, but being lovers was something completely off limits, even if he watched Jack’s eyes travel down his figure when the younger man thought he was being sly.

It was nothing.

“Why does me loving yeh have to be gross!”

But that was _definitely_ something.

His anger had gotten the best of him that day and when Jack had whirled on him with those words he’d been blindsided. It took a moment for him to process what had been said, and then another before Mark would allow himself to come to the conclusion that yes, Jack had indeed said that. Was he talking about the fanfiction versions of himself? Was that what he meant by that? That had to be it, there was no way Jack _actually_ loved him, there was no way that could be true. Right?

Wrong.

Now he was here, with Jack in his hotel room, with said man staring up at him with wide blue eyes that shone like stars in the night sky due to his tears.

Tears that _he_ had caused. 

It looked like a million different thoughts were churning through Jack’s head, his mouth slightly open as if trying to form the words but couldn’t find them.

“What…?”, and then quickly followed by, “No, no, no, no. Yer jus’ sayin’ that, yeh don’ really mean t’at”.

Mark felt Jack try to wriggle his way out of his grasp, but Mark held fast, “No, I’m not, I mean this Jack”.

Jack finally shoved his weight in Mark’s direction, the two of them tilting. They would have fallen off the bed and onto the floor together if Mark hadn’t finally let go of the Irishman. Mark watched as Jack folded his arms in front of him, as if the younger man meant to block him out. Jack was staring at him with his eyes narrowed, the hurt and mistrust written clearly on his face.

“I’m being honest with you, Jack”. Mark reached out a tentative hand, slowly inching towards Jack’s folded arms. The Irishman didn’t stop him, or pull away when Mark touched his arm, he merely kept his gaze on him.

Mark didn’t have any more words to say, Jack looked as if he wanted to speak but was refusing if the way he was biting the inside of his lip was any indication. There had been a thousand countless nights when Mark had stayed up and replayed their argument over in his head, saying things he meant to and apologizing for what he had said. Normally, Mark would have been the one to be an emotional mess, but he felt so tired suddenly and drained of every possible emotion. His heart ached for the man in front of him who was staring back at him with hate in his eyes. Of course, Jack wouldn’t believe him, the Irishman probably thought he’d say anything to get himself out of this situation. Jack had thought he could trust Mark, and Mark had let him down when he had needed him the most.

Mark sighed, pushing his luck a little as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Jack’s. The Irishman flinched but stayed where he was, letting out a small sigh before dropping his arms to his lap.

If their friendship was to end tonight, then what more did Mark have to lose?

He slowly brought up his right hand, cupping Jack’s chin and gently running his thumb over the other man’s beard. It had grown in thicker down towards his chin, no longer patchy along the sides of his jaw either. It was different than the smooth skin of a women’s face, Mark thought as Jack allowed his hand to travel further up and around his face to grasp the back of his neck. He didn’t miss the way Jack sucked in a breath, as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Didn’t miss the slight tremor that ran through Jack’s body as Mark let out his own shaky breath.

Mark brought his head away from Jack’s looking back into eyes that were unsure, uneasy, but suddenly so open and vulnerable. Mark smiled sadly, “I’m being honest with you, Sean”.

And then Mark leaned in and kissed Jack.

The Irishman’s lips were chapped, and his beard felt weird against Mark’s own, but still, Mark kissed him. It was meant to be short and sweet, Mark hoping he could convey his sincerity with it, but as he started to pull away, he felt Jack shake his head, his beard rubbing up against Mark’s upper lip. Mark felt the Irishman part his lips ever so slightly, an invitation he hadn’t expected to be granted. He felt the tip of Jack’s tongue reach out, wanting to deepen their kiss and Mark obliged.

Mark’s hand left its spot behind Jack’s neck, moving further up to grab at the short strands his fingers found, his tongue slipping past Jack’s parted lips and slowly licking the inside of his mouth. He felt Jack shiver in his grasp, a tiny noise escaping the corners of the Irishman’s mouth and Mark chased after it like a man dying of thirst.

He felt Jack shift his weight, felt the bed dip as the younger man moved his body closer to Mark. His hands tentatively reached out to touch his waist, then glided across the fabric of his shirt to brush against the small of his back, and then they pressed lightly in between his shoulder blades. Mark made a sound deep in his throat, a mix between a sigh and a moan, he felt like he should have been embarrassed but he couldn’t have cared less.

This way okay, right? Jack was responding, wasn’t pulling away. The Irishman was on his knees now, both his hands grasped firmly against the back of his neck, titling Mark’s head up as Jack kissed him back with increasing need. Mark brought his hands down to Jack’s back, running the tips of his fingers lightly against the Irishman’s shirt. He broke off their kiss, moving to Jack’s neck and pressed his lips against the flesh there. He heard Jack sigh and Mark wanted to hear what other sounds he could make, he wanted to hear his name slip from those beautiful lips while the Irishman was high off of his arousal. Mark wanted to trail his lips from once patch of skin to the next, wanted to bite every inch of Jack’s pale flesh until it was covered with bright red marks.

He wanted to show Jack just how much he meant to him.

Mark grunted, shaking his head. He could feel the blood rushing to his groin and if Jack moved his knee another inch to the right, the Irishman would know he wasn’t lying. Mark placed his hands on the Irishman’s hips, pressing his fingers onto them as he tried to tame his arousal, his heart beating fast in his chest.

Jack pulled away then, the pupils of his eyes blown wide and almost drowning out the baby blue. His cheeks were stained with a bright pink that had crept down to his neck, his lips bright red and wet from being kissed repeatedly. He looked gorgeous and Mark would have gagged at the thought any other time, but it was the only word he could use to describe what he was looking at. Was it possible to fall in love with someone all over again?

“You aren’t lying”, his voice was impossibly deep, all hints of his accent disappearing, and it did wonderfully horrible things to Mark.

“I’m not,” his own voice sounded wrecked, thick with want and a need to placate it, but Mark wasn’t sure how far he could push this, he didn’t know how much Jack wanted.

Jack licked his lips, nodding his head as his hands fell from the back of Mark’s neck to rest on his shoulders.

“Then I can do this,” Mark felt like the air had been knocked out his lungs when Jack rocked against him, sinfully creating a delicious friction Mark hadn’t realized he’d needed until that moment.

_“Oh, fuck...”_ Mark’s fingers gripped Jack’s shirt tightly as his hips jerked up on instinct, searching for more. A fire had been burning within Mark’s body and suddenly it was blazing, high and hot and a deep growl bubbled up from his throat as his hands clawed at Jack’s back.

“I take it yeh liked that”.

_Shit._ Mark wanted to wipe the small smirk off of Jack’s lips.

“I think you need to be careful”, he whispered in a low tone and pushed his hands under Jack’s shirt, raking his nails across the Irishman’s back. He brought his lips to Jack’s in a bruising kiss, taking in quick breaths of air as Jack moaned. Their tongues fought for control until Mark bit the bottom of Jack’s lip, the younger man groaning and allowing Mark to swipe his tongue across the roof of his mouth.

Mark wanted, _needed_ , to get closer and Jack’s shirt was getting in the way. He brought his hands higher up, hiking up the Irishman’s shirt in the process. Mark tugged at in annoyance, Jack understanding instantly and breaking off their kiss to take his shirt off, tossing it aside.

_Beautiful, beautiful._

It echoed through his head. Jack’s skin was beautiful, his chest hair a stark contrast against the milky white flesh. Jack’s flush had traveled down from his collarbones and was scattered across his right shoulder blade. His mop of dark hair hung in front of his face, covering up the hungry look Jack was giving. Mark leaned forward, brushing his nose against Jack’s shoulder before bucking his hips up.

_“Shite…”_

Mark bit into the tender flesh beneath his mouth to keep a steady pace of friction despite Jack’s efforts in increasing his speed. Mark wanted to take this slow, he wanted to savor every moment, commit every noise Jack made to memory so he could keep it close. Mark pressed light kisses against the red mark blooming on Jack’s shoulder, reveling in its beauty.

They continued like this, kissing one another senseless while their hands roamed freely. Mark wasn’t sure when, but his shirt joined the one he’d lent Jack, the Irishman busying his mouth by kissing down his chest. A pale hand circled around one of Mark’s nipples, the tips of his fingers ghosting over the tiny nub, but it had the desired effect Jack wanted. Mark sucked in a breath, “J-Jack…” Said man lifted his head, looking up with eyes that were shrouded in desire and the world around Mark shifted and it felt like he was falling.

“Sensitive?”

“Y-Yes”.

“Then I’ll be careful”.  
-.-

His fingers carded through his hair once again, it was sticking up at weird angles and no matter how many times he tried to tame the flyways, they just stuck straight up again. Mark let out an annoyed huff and glared at his reflection in the mirror, he probably should have just cut it.

“Here, let me help”.

Jack’s voice was muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth, a bit of the toothpaste threatening to spill onto his shirt. It didn’t bother the Irishman though as he merely wiped it away with the back of his hand and moved to join Mark in the bathroom. Jack turned the faucet on, letting the water run for a few minutes before testing the warmth with a quick swipe of his hand.

Once deemed ready, he cupped his hands and placed them underneath the running water. He had just enough in his hands even as some spilled between the gaps of his fingers. Mark watched their reflections, watched the way Jack’s eyes were meticulously trained on making sure every inch of his head was wet. His eyes flicking back and forth before running his fingers through the now wet strands.

It was strange, really, at how domestic this all felt. Or, maybe strange wasn’t the right way to describe what Mark was feeling. Perhaps it was like when a string on an instrument was wound too tightly and when it was turned beyond its limits, it would snap. Resulting in the release of built up tension. Maybe that was what he was feeling right now.

The stress and worry over their tenuous friendship had reached its tipping point, and that ship had tilted in their favor. They had both been able to broach the subject with one another without the safety net of being able to turn off their phones or hang up from a Skype call. They still had some ways to go, but for now it seemed as if they were on the right path.

A rough pat to the top of his head broke Mark from his musings. He flinched slightly, looking away from the mirror to find Jack looking pleased with his handiwork.

“There,” he declared through a mouthful of toothpaste, “Yer hair looks better”. Jack moved to rinse his mouth out as Mark leaned over the counter to inspect his work. He turned his head from side to side, up and down. Wow. If YouTube didn’t pan out for Jack, he’d have a promising future in being Mark’s personal hairstylist. Even he couldn’t always get that stubborn curl near the base of his neck to behave as well as it was now.

“Thanks man, you did a really good job”. Mark turned to flash a wide grin in Jack’s direction as he added, “I’d pay you to do my hair”.

Jack laughed and shook his head, “Yeh couldn’t pay me enough, yer hair’s as stubborn as yeh are”. The Irishman cupped his hands again and splashed some water on his face, fingers running down the side of his jaw as he inspected his beard.

“I should shave”. He wrinkled his nose and splashed another handful of water on his face before patting it dry with a clean hand towel. Mark hummed in response, looking away from his own reflection to Jack’s, he was running his hands down both sides of his face, the tips of his fingers running through the hair there as if he had an itch.

Mark moved closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder before squeezing it softly. Jack leaned back, turning his body to face Mark. His hands still held his face comically and Mark couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped past his lips. Like this, it was hard to believe that Jack was only a year younger than him. The way he acted sometimes, Mark would have taken him for a man in his early twenties as opposed to being two years away from turning thirty.

“I think it’s fine,” Mark brought a hand up to Jack’s chin and ran his thumb across the wiry hair there. Against the sensitive skin of his thumb, the hair felt scratchy and harsh, but when Mark had kissed him last night the hair there had only tickled him.

Jack slowly dropped his hands, his right reaching out to the one cupping his chin. His hand was cold against the heat of his own, but the motion itself chased away the chilly feeling of the other man’s grasp. They had done more than just make out and dry hump against one another last night. Last night they had crossed a line that had been drawn in the sand, Mark having been the one to take the first step and hold out his hand, waiting to see if Jack would follow. It hadn’t been as awkward like Mark had feared it would be, seeing Jack spread out beneath him, so open and so vulnerable. Terribly dirty words and beautiful moans spilling from his lips the more attention he had given the man.

Mark leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Jack’s cheek, he didn’t need his thoughts traveling in that direction at the moment. He wanted to savor what little time he had left with the Irishman before they inevitably had to part ways once more.

The corners of Jack’s mouth twitched, as if the younger man couldn’t decide whether he wanted to say something or not. After another moment’s hesitation he spoke in a quiet voice, “Septiplier isn’t dead after all”.

Okay, now Mark couldn’t get away from the Irishman fast enough. He groaned, running a hand down his face and was about to wordlessly lock Jack in the hotel bathroom for the rest of his life when Jack pressed his hands against his chest. Mark stilled, looking down at eyes that were bright with mischief and happiness. Mark grunted, his annoyance tapering off into an irritated fondness.

“They’ll never leave us alone now,” Mark grumbled as he wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist and pulled the Irishman closer to him. Jack allowed himself to be encircled, a small sigh escaping him as he nodded his head against Mark’s chest.

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them”. The words were slightly muffled, but Mark caught them. They might be in the public eye, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have tricks up their sleeves to get the shippers off their trail, at least, for a little while anyway.

Mark snorted in lieu of having anything to add, it’d only be a matter of time, but Mark decided to keep the thought to himself. Jack shimmied away from him, taking Mark’s hand in his own and giving it a quick reassuring squeeze, “The others will be waitin’ for yeh, best not to keep them waiting”. Mark breathed out nosily through his nose but moved to gather up the rest of his toiletries, no need for anyone else to come and drag him out of his hotel room.

Jack helped Mark tidy up the rest of the room and the Irishman waited by the door as Mark did one last sweep of the room. He grabbed the handle of his suitcase and moved back towards the door, nodding his head as Jack moved to open the door to leave. An odd sense of urgency hit Mark in the pit of his stomach and for a moment he hesitated, Jack pressing a hand onto the door to allow the man to follow him but giving him a confused look when he didn’t immediately exit the room.

Mark frowned, slowly stepping out into the hallway of the hotel and walked alongside Jack, the strange feeling following him outside to the tour bus. The others were outside waiting for them, assorted hot beverages in hand. They all looked about as alert as they could be for how early in the morning it was, so Mark couldn’t fault the way Tyler tried to make a grab for his bag and nearly fell over instead.

Jack fell into their conversation easily, making a joke and moving to enter the semi-circle the group had made around the front of the bus. Mark watched from the side, Jack’s stance looked more relaxed than it had yesterday. His hands hung loosely in the belt loops of his black jeans, the smile on his face seemed more genuine when Wade made a stupid joke and his laughter sounded light and airy. The morning light was bright, and it made Jack lift up a hand to shield his eyes from it, his stance shifting so that one hip was cocked to the side. The sense of urgency Mark had been feeling slowly faded as he took in all of his friends, his own body relaxing.

“Mornin’ Mark, got you some coffee!” Ethan’s cheery voice sounded exponentially louder in the calm morning air and Mark playfully grumbled as he made his way to join his friends.

“How are you so awake already?” Mark took the offered cup of coffee from Ethan who only smiled and shrugged. “It’s a blessing and a curse,” he said with a sorrowful tip of his head in Mark’s direction.

“Yeah, it’s a curse to us,” Tyler yawned in the middle of his sentence, but his point was made as the others groggily agreed.

“Yeah, well, either way, we need to get going guys,” Mark carefully sipped his coffee, it was still incredibly warm and just the small sip he had burnt the tip of his tongue. “Go and return your key cards before too many people start waking up and do the same”.

The group groaned in unison, “I don’t want to…” Wade’s tired voice piped up from behind his cup of coffee, but the older man turned back towards the door nonetheless. “Jack, you’ll still be here so we can say goodbye, right?”

Jack perked his head up at the sound of his name, “Yeah, yeah, good ol’ Jackaboy will be waitin’ fer yeh right here!” The Irishman gave Wade a wide grin and the older man nodded before beckoning everyone else to follow him leaving Mark and Jack to themselves.

Mark took another sip of his coffee before wordlessly offering some to Jack. The Irishman took it without a word, blowing on it a few times before taking a couple sips. They stood in a comfortable silence, neither one wanting to be the first to break the quiet spell that had befallen them. It seemed inevitable though, as Jack cleared his throat and Mark turned his head to give the younger man his full attention.

“So,” Jack began as he took another sip of coffee, “What…what exactly…are we?” Jack made a motion with his hand, moving it back and forth in the space between the two of them.

Mark folded his arms across his chest, eyes narrowing in contemplation as he considered Jack’s question.

“Well,” he began, “I know what _I am_ , but I’ve heard people on the internet calling you a smol Irish coffee bean”.

The older man snickered as Jack spat out a mouthful of coffee onto the pavement they were standing on. “Jaysus Mark,” Jack scolded him as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, “Yeh know I’m not _that small_ ”. The Irishman made a face as he coughed a few more times before quickly adding, “And no, that’s _not_ what I meant, get yer head outta the gutter”.

Mark uncrossed his arms, throwing his hands up in defense, “I would never think such things, Jack”. The two stared at another for a few moments before they both burst out laughing.

“Yer such an ass,” Jack shook his head good naturedly, a smile spreading across his lips.

“But I’m your ass?” Mark asked the question as he straightened himself out, stuffing his hands in his pockets. In all honesty, he didn’t know where he stood with the Irishman considering they had both crossed the line from being friends into something more. Mark just wasn’t sure what that was, was he to consider Jack his boyfriend now? His lover? Could they still call one another friends while they figured out the new grounds to their relationship? Would that be weird? Would Jack take offense to that?

Mark watched Jack’s eyes flick back and forth, from the coffee cup still in his hands to Mark himself. He looked unsure and Mark could make out the bit of lip the Irishman was worrying between his teeth.

“I mean…would yeh be opposed?” Jack finally spoke, stuffing one hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Not at all,” Mark’s answer came quick and he hoped it didn’t sound too rushed. He had put some thought into this, and he was ready to be whatever Jack needed him to be.

“Then, do I call yeh my…boyfriend…?” Jack uttered the last word quietly, hiding behind the cup of coffee he seemed intent on not giving back to Mark anytime soon. Mark couldn’t help but let out a small snort, Jack giving him a quizzical look as he quickly explained, “I’m just imagining playing those stupid, ‘Who’s my YouTuber Boyfriend’ quizzes”.

Jack relaxed at this, letting out his own laugh, “Oh my god, not those”. The Irishman groaned and looked down at his feet, shuffling them a bit before offering Mark back his coffee cup. “Yeh better take this before I drink it all,” Mark took the cup back, their hands briefly brushing past one another before Jack stuffed his other hand into his back pocket.

“I could be your boyfriend, if that’s what you want”.

“I don’t want teh force yeh,” Jack shrugged, “M’sure we can still be friends”.

“I don’t know Jack,” Mark began, his head tilted to one side as he looked over the Irishman, “Do friends see each other naked?”

Mark really should have seen the swat coming, but he allowed Jack’s hand to make contact with his chest regardless. He rubbed at the spot where Jack had hit him, the Irishman pouting and glaring at him, “Yeh don’t have to say it out loud, yeh don’t know who’d hear”. Mark merely shrugged, it was fun to push Jack’s buttons sometimes.

“Fine, fine,” he relented upon seeing Jack’s look become nastier and nastier, and then more seriously he added, “We don’t have to be anything, we don’t have to label this now”. Mark pointed at himself and then at Jack, “I think as long as we’ve got each other, it’ll get easier”. He took a step towards the Irishman, placing a comforting hand on the small of the man’s back. Jack looked up at him with those damn baby blue eyes of his and Mark couldn’t stop himself as he leaned further in and kissed the man.

Yes, so long as they had each other, there was virtually nothing that could stop them. The world had better watch out.

The clang of the backdoor sounded and the two quickly moved away from one another, Jack bringing a hand up to rub at his face. Mark gave the Irishman a crooked smile, it was cute watching Jack try and hide his embarrassment from others.

The gang slowly came back outside, Bob leading as he went over and gave Jack a bear hug, everyone following his lead as they said their final goodbyes. There were promises of visits and collabs, and Jack tried to reassure everyone that it wouldn’t be the last time they’d see each other.

“Yeh can’t get rid of me that easily!” Jack boasted as he clapped Tyler on the back and high fived Ethan, pulling the younger man into a tight hug as well.

“Lord knows we’ve tried,” Wade rolled his eyes playfully and pulled Jack into another embrace, telling him how good it was to have had him see the show.

They all shuffled their way onto the bus leaving Mark standing awkwardly next to Jack. The Irishman smiled with all his teeth, opening his arms wide as he invited Mark in for a hug. He couldn’t resist and grabbed hold of Jack, squeezing until the Irishman let out a grunt and placed a hand on his back. Mark loosened his grip just enough and Jack turned his head to sneak a quick kiss on his jaw. It caught Mark off guard and he couldn’t help the goofy smile he felt spread across his face as he slowly let go of Jack.

“Talk on Skype yeah?” Jack’s smile was still plastered on his face and Mark nodded, “You know it”.

Mark finally made his way onto the bus, waving one last time to Jack before the bus roared to life. He made his way over to his usual seat and sat down next to the window, catching Jack’s eye as he sat down, and the Irishman saluted him. Mark returned the gesture and Jack seemed satisfied at that as he turned around and began to walk off. Happiness seeped into Mark’s very core and he let out a sigh, this was perfect.

He turned to rifle through his bag, his vlog camera catching his attention. He hadn’t really filmed anything and couldn’t help the trickle of guilt that crept inside when he’d spotted the camera in his bag. He pulled it out as the tour bus moved away from its spot near the sidewalk and put on a bright face for his viewers. He chatted away quietly, rays of morning sun shining in his face and making him squint into the camera. He made a joke about it and laughed to himself. He ended the short clip with a quick pan of the bus and every one of his friends. They were polite enough, though Ethan made a face and quickly hid behind his seat.

Mark turned around and sat back down in his seat, shutting off the camera as he did so and sighed happily. Mark loved his friends, he really did, even when they drove him nuts. He knew they did it only because they truly cared about him.

“Mind if I sit?” Bob’s voice sounded next to Mark and he looked up and smiled, nodding his head and patting the empty seat next to him. Bob took the invitation and sat next to him, neither saying much as Mark flipped through the pictures he had managed to take on his phone when Bob spoke up.

“So…how long have you and Jack been seeing each other?”

Mark loved his friends, he really did, even when they drove him nuts. He knew they did it only because they truly cared about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for stopping by and reading this! I had such a fun time creating this and I didn't think it'd end up this long either! Ah, but thank you again for reading! Stay tuned for future projects!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm the kind of person that would eat those Luden's cough drops like candy. I have more of this written down, but I'm sort of happy leaving it here, it's cute just like those little weirdos.


End file.
